Merlin Emrys Discovering Hogwarts
by mickeyridini
Summary: Merlin Emrys has been alone for hundreds of years, still haunted by the death of Arthur Pendragon. One day, in the year 1968, Merlin stumbles into Diagon Alley, a place for witches and wizards. Merlin then learns that he is not alone, like he originally thought. Soon Merlin will be immersed in a world of people just like him and discover places like Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

I dread the night. After hundreds of years, I still have the nightmares, each and every night. I see his face, his dying face. His body turning limp in my arms. His last smile, his last words, "Thank you." Every night I see him. Arthur.

* * *

The hundreds of years since Arthur's passing, haven't been entirely lonely. After his death, I couldn't bear to return to Camelot. Not that there was much left for me anyways.

Gwen and I had grown apart in the years before Arthur's death. Once we were two servants. Good mates, for a long while. But like many friendships, it grew farther and farther apart. We never hated each other, we just didn't stay close. So, it wasn't worthwhile going back to Camelot for Gwen.

As for the knights. I had found out that Gwaine, who I was very close to, died the same day as Arthur. It was too much for me to handle, and just added to what was already the worst day of my life. The only other knights I knew were Percival and Leon. I knew them both pretty well, but we weren't very close.

The only person that was still in Camelot at the time, that was worth returning to, was Gaius. Gaius, the man who was like a father to me. He raised me through my teenage and young adult years. Gaius taught me so much about magic. He helped me and was so dear to me in so many ways. Gaius was the only person I truly regret not going back to Camelot for. I should have. But I didn't. Not even for Gaius.

I couldn't return to Camelot. Not to the place where Arthur reigned over for many years. Not the place where I had to clean his room and constantly stop threats on his life. Not the place where we would tease and joke with each other. Not the place where I could still hear his laugh and see his smile, Not the place where I found the best home imaginable. A home that included Arthur.

Instead, I returned to where I was born. I went back to Ealdor. I lived with my mother for many years. I would still write to Gaius to keep in touch. He would inform me of what was happening in Camelot and I would just write to him about Ealdor. About a year after Arthur's death, Gwen, who became Queen, lifted the ban of magic off Camelot. I was overwhelmed with joy when I received that news. I know that Arthur would have ended the ban eventually, if he had lived. He never truly thought sorcerers were all evil.

I lived with my mother for many years. We farmed, cooked, cleaned. I lived a simple life, without much magic. Every night I would have dreams of Arthur, I would wake up crying and coated in sweat. But my mom was always there. She would comfort me and hold me, just like when I was a child.

It wasn't long before Gaius passed. Gwen sent us a letter. I hadn't cried that much since Arthur had died. I couldn't believe that yet another person from my life was gone. And I was left, with another piece of my heart gone.

My mother lived a long life. When her time ran out, she made me promise to not use magic. She wanted a natural death and that is what she got. Old age is what took her in the end. I held her hand, even after she drew her last breath.

Not long after I heard word of Percival's and Leon's noble deaths in battle, while defending Camelot. They died the only way they would want to. And soon after, they were followed by Gwen. It was a plague that took her.

Just like that, everyone I had cared about was gone. And I was left alone. In the blink of an eye. It was over, my wonderful, beautiful, small fragment of life, that I lived in Camelot for. The only thing that kept me alive were the words Kilgharrah spoke to me. I would wait, not matter how long, for Arthur to rise again.

I traveled with Aithusa for quite some time. I was a dragonlord again with Aithusa. Until, she too, joined the land of the dead.

And this was only the very beginning of my very long life.

As the years passed, things got worse. Slowly, but steadily, time grew on and magic became a child's tale. Magic, dragons, Camelot, King Arthur, and even I, became myth. No one believed in magic and Camelot anymore. It was sad to see people forget and not believe it all. After all, it had been the best part of my entire life.

Those who don't believe are wrong. Magic just doesn't cease to exist, just because everyday people don't recognize it. You can't just get rid of magic.

There is always murmurings of people who possess magic. People like me. We have to keep it a secret though, for we may be locked up for being delusional. Although, now I've heard they call themselves witches and wizards, not sorcerers and sorceresses.

There is still others, like me, out there. Somewhere.

* * *

The year is 1958. I find myself in a tavern, in the middle of London. A place called Diagon Alley. I've never heard of this place before. But Diagon Alley is very busy. Flooded with people wearing robes. Some even with pointed hats. I look strange in my trousers and jumper, compared to all these other people.

I order a "Firewhiskey" at the tavern. I have never heard of it before, but I'm sure it's alcoholic. After I get my drink, I take a seat. This doesn't feel like a normal tavern, no card game going on. I don't see any frights. Strange.

I don't go to taverns that often. Quite honestly, like most things, it reminds me of Arthur. He always thought that I was at the tavern. Never was. I was usually just saving that prat's life. Sometimes I wish I had told him about my magic sooner. Would have it been better if he had known? This is just one of those numerous questions that have haunted me for hundreds of years.

A man sits down right next to me, wearing a black robe. He seems to be drinking a firewhiskey too. "Haven't seen you around here before," he says to me. His voice is very deep.

"Well that makes sense, because I've never been here before," I say.

"Hmmmmm," he says and then takes a sip of his drink. I still haven't tried mine. "Why are you dressed like a muggle?" he asks.

"A what?" What is a muggle? Why is this man using made up words?

"A muggle," he says, as if it's obvious what that means.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Well," he says gulping his drink, "you must be really drunk, if you can't reckon what a muggle is." I must have a strange look on my face. The man slaps my back and says, "Don't worry. It happens to the best of us."

This guy must be insane. Never in my existence have I heard the word "muggle", and I've lived quite a long time. Longer than anyone else. And of all the knowledge I have required over my years of traveling, I have never once heard this word. This guy needs to see a doctor, or something.

"Well, good luck mate," the man says right after gulping down the rest of his drink. "Off to Ollivander's to help my kid get their first wand." The man walks away and out of the tavern.

What is Ollivander's? And he said a wand. A _wand. _Today they use the term "wands" for sorcerers. In the tales, that is what they say sorcerers use to cast spells. That must be what that man was referring too. But sorcerers don't need wands. All we need is our magic and a spell. That's another just thing they have gotten wrong about my kind.

I get up and leave. The whole time I was there I didn't even bother to drink that firewhiskey. But I want to follow this man and see this place called Ollivander's.

By the time I walk out of the tavern, I can't see that man anymore. He must be lost in the crowd of people. Maybe if I ask around, I can find this place.

As I walk through the streets, I see a store only selling brooms. Nothing else. Many children, look at these brooms in awe. What is this place? Why are people so excited about ordinary brooms? Brooms are just used for sweeping. Very strange, indeed.

Another shop is selling books. Not too out of the ordinary, I suppose. But then I pass by a place called, Eeylops Owl Emporium. Birds? That's what they are selling? But they aren't just any birds. They are owls. I see a young, smiling child coming out the shop's door, beaming, holding a massive cage with an owl inside.

Tons of people own animals, that's pretty normal. Many have had dogs and horses over the years. But owls? Horses take you from one place to another. Dogs can help you find things. But what do owls do? How do they help people?

This is the first time in hundreds of years, that I feel bewildered to what is occurring. I've been around for so long. I should have heard of this all, in my years of traveling and wandering. I know more than probably anyone else. I have seen more than anyone else. I have been alone for so long. And over the years of traveling, the times of my wonderful life in Camelot, are all vague memories now. What would I give to go back to Camelot all those years ago? How long will it take to be reunited with Arthur again? Sometimes I think it would be better to join Arthur in death. But the words Kilgharrah spoke to me, somehow, after all this time, have still kept me going. I don't know why or how, but they have.

I pass more and more shops, but still no sign of Ollivander's. I see a woman, standing by the windows of a shop. I walk up to her. "Excuse me," I say, "Could you tell me where Ollivander's is?"

The woman tilts her head up, to look at me. "Of course," she says. "Keep walking forward, and see those people," she says to me, pointing a crowd gathered around a shop, "that's Ollivander's."

"Thank you for your help," I say to her.

"My pleasure," she replies.

I head down the street, walking quickly, just wanting to find out what is all going on. When I reach the crowd, gathered around, it is quite large. Why is this shop so busy?

I read the sign on the building. It reads, _Ollivander's Wand Shop_. Wands? Again? These people really want toy wands for the children? What is so fun about that? Besides people who have magic, do not need wands. It's probably just a child's toy store, or something of the matter.

I try to look through the windows over everyone heads, but no luck. It seems as if it is very dark inside. What to do now? After coming all the way here, I might as well go inside.

I stand there, contemplating, when I begin to overhear some conversations. I hear someone murmur the word, "Hogwarts."

And then a child, starts jumping up and down in excitements saying pretty loudly, "I can't wait for my first year at Hogwarts." Hogwarts? What a peculiar name for a school. At least I'm guessing it's a school, since that child said that it would be his first year.

I hear more and more conversations. "What house will I be in?" One of the children asks. "Hopefully Ravenclaw," I hear. "Maybe Gryffindor," says another. What are all these strange names? The houses? "I like Hufflepuff," one of the them says. "How about Slytherin?" Someone asks.

All these strange words I have encountered today in Diagon Alley, have my head spinning. They all have to be made up or something.

After waiting around for a little bit, the line inches forward. When I am able to go inside Ollivander's, it takes me in awe. The entire shop is pretty small, but stacked everywhere are boxes and boxes. Everywhere. They are lopsided and crooked, but boxes fill the entire shop.

A girl and her parents walk up to an old man, behind the counter. The kid must be about ten or eleven. Other people are waiting to go next, but they talk to this man. The man, behind the counter, goes to look for something and within a few minutes comes back with a box. He puts it on to the counter, and the child's face brightens up when the man opens the box and hands her, what I presume to be a wand.

The young girl takes it from him, and she holds it in her palms, looking at all of it's details. The old man tells her, "Give it a try. Wave it over there," he says pointing to a pot on the counter.

The girl gives it a wave, and to my shock, the pot shatters. The man doesn't even flinch. The girl looks a bit disappointed. What is this? How did they do that? Is this just some big show that they are putting on?

The girl hands the wand back to the man. He takes it and places it inside the box. He disappears for another few minutes and comes back with another wand. "I feel like this may be the one," the man tells the young girl.

He hands her the wand and she wraps her hand around it. "Give it a wave," the man tells her. The girl waves it mid air and suddenly a breeze fills up the room. But how? The door nor any of the windows are open. Then the one light bulb in the room, begins flickering, until the the shop is more illuminated than before.

The man says, "That's the one." The girl breaks out into a smile, and squeals a little bit in excitement. The parents hand the man something, I can't see what it is, but I assume that it is payment. After they are gone, he pulls out a wand of his own, says something, and all of the pot's broken pieces fit together once again. Perfectly fixed.

Whatever that man said must have been a spell. I've been alive for over a thousand years. And I know magic when I see it. Wand or not, with or without a spell, I know what magic is. And that was most defintley magic.

This can only mean one thing: I have found others like me. I'm not alone anymore.

* * *

When I exit Ollivander's, I don't know what to think anymore. It's been so long since I've seen people like me. Sure they may use wands to cast a spell, and their eyes don't change color, but they are like me.

As I walk around Diagon Alley, I feel different with this new knowledge. I observe all these people. I guess today, sorcerers wear robes and use wands. I can handle that. That doesn't bother me, even though it's different from what sorcerers used to be like. Everyone here has wands, except for the young children. And the more I pay attention, the more I realize how many spells are being cast around me.

I see people reading newspapers, with moving pictures. I've never seen anything like it. The paper is called _The Daily Prophet, _and many of the people here seem to have one and are reading it intently. I'd like to have one of my own. I walk into a store that sells books and ask where I can get it. The person tells me to go to a place called Gringotts to exchange my "muggle" money.

At the place called Gringotts, I learn that it is a bank. I exchange my money with a goblin, which are the workers. Strange, that they use other species for their use. After I leave Gringotts, I go to order a years worth of the newspaper.

I want to know what is happening with all the sorcerers. I need to know. That's why I want to read _The Daily Prophet. _Because now that I know I'm am not alone and that I know that there is a community for people like me, I need to know what is happening.

* * *

As I stroll through the streets of Diagon Alley, the one thing that I can't seem to shake isn't the fact they all wear robes and use wands. Not that their eyes don't change color, or that I have finally found people like me.

The thing that is so foreign to me is that they are a community. That they can use magic as they please. They aren't persecuted or don't have to hide. They are together, united, happy, free to be who they are. And that hits me, worse than anything has in a couple hundred of years. Because that is a privilege I never had.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been about a year since I first stumbled into Diagon Alley.

In that time, I have read every _Daily Prophet_ I have received, and have tried to figure out what they are like. They call themselves witches and wizards. I have also figured out that muggle is a word used for people who don't have magic. They are very careful of being exposed, I suppose they don't want questions. And there are schools for young witches and wizards. One of the most well known is Hogwarts, which I heard of at Ollivander's. I honestly can't believe that they have stayed hidden and safe for so long.

July 20th, 1969 starts off normal, just like every other day. I get up, eat, go to work, and come back home. A cycle that happens every day of every year.

When I get home from work that night, I see _The __Daily Prophet_ on the counter. Must have been dropped off by an owl while I was at work.

I make a quick sandwich, grab the newspaper, and settle into my chair to read it. The articles are pretty normal, at least for wizards, that is. Nothing too alarming. I read it in depth though, just like I have the past year.

When I finish and close the paper, on the last page I see an ad of sorts, it reads: Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Wanted. Owl Headmaster Albus Dumbledore if interested.

Interesting. Hogwarts need a new professor and has even started advertising in the paper for it. And they must need one soon because the new school year starts in September. It definitely isn't good, if they are cutting it this close to finding a new professor. It can only mean one thing: They are in desperate need to hire someone.

I've honestly always wanted to see Hogwarts. The way they describe in the paper just makes it sound so wonderful and amazing. Plus, I wish I could be surrounded by people like me a lot. Occasionally I go to Diagon Alley, but this may be my only chance to really become one of them. And it would be nice to be apart of the community. What do I have to lose?

I scribble down a leader to the Headmaster:

_Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_I have seen the ad in The Daily Prophet for an open position at Hogwarts. It would bring me pleasure to have this position. I am quite experienced in the magical arts, although I have not taught them to others so far. I would be delighted to take this position._

_-Merlin Emrys_

* * *

The next morning, a Sunday, I drop by Diagon Alley and give my letter to an owl to send to Albus Dumbledore. After the owl flies off, I wonder whether I should have done that. Was it a foolish decision? No one even knows who I am.

I also realize if I am going to blend in, I need a wand. It would probably be suspicious if I was the only wizard who could do hand magic. And it would be difficult to explain that I'm over a thousand years old. Even here, that probably isn't very normal. I'm not normal, next to all these other witches and wizards.

I walk over to Ollivander's, vaguely remembering where it is. When I walk inside, today the shop seems practically empty. I suppose it's the busiest when children are getting their wand for the beginning of the school year. Must be pretty slow the rest of the time.

I open up the door, walking inside the vacant shop. "Excuse me?" I say hoping Mr. Ollivander is in the shop today. "Anyone here?"

I hear something fall, and then a voice coming from the shelves that hold all of the wands. "One moment please," I hear Mr. Ollivander say.

I wait at the front of the counter, remembering what happened the last time I was here. How that girl performed magic. That was when I truly realized that they were all wizards.

Mr. Ollivander emerges from behind the shelves. He stumbles a little and makes his way towards the counter. "What can I do for you today?" he asks me.

"I lost my wand," I lie. "And I need a new one."

"Ah," he says. "Of course. Happens to some. Well, I guess we will try to find you a new one. But before I do," he says looking me in the eyes, "have you looked everywhere?"

"I have," I lie again. I guess lying isn't too hard for me. I spent my entire life in Camelot lying, after all.

"Well then. I will begin searching," he says. "Was your last wand from here?"

"No," I tell him. "Went to a different shop."

"That's what I thought because I never have forgotten, not even one wand I've sold. And I know I have never sold a wand to you before."

Well, he must have a good memory. A heck of a lot better than mine. Mr. Ollivander disappears into the shelves again, rummaging to find a wand. How does this man even know which wand would be best for someone?

By the time he comes back with a wand, it has been over fifteen minutes. It didn't take nearly that long for that girl last year. He places the box on the counter and slowly takes the wand out of it. He speaks to me again, "I've said time and time again to my customers that the wand chooses the wizard. While I was looking, it didn't seem like any of the wands would choose you. I've never experienced that before. It was almost like you don't need one." He stares deep into my eyes for a few seconds. "But that's impossible," Mr. Ollivander says finishing his thought.

He hands me the wand and I grasp it in my hands. "Perform a spell," he tells me. "A simple one." Oh dear, this can't be good. I mean I know spells, but they are from the old religion and I'm pretty sure they do not use the same ones. And even if I do do one, my eyes change color. He will know somethings up. Mr. Ollivander isn't an idiot.

He notices my hesitation. I have to do something quickly. I must say something and hope that he doesn't notice. "How about lumos?" he suggests to me. Lumos. I've read about that somewhere. It has something to do with light.

I breathe a deep sigh of relief. Hold up my wand, like I've seen others do. I tilt my head to the side, so he won't see my eyes, and say the word. "Lumos!" I look at the wand and make it light up. A white, blinding light fills some of the room. I know that it isn't the spell, but it was me. The magic from the old religion.

My eyes flicker, and I know that they have changed color. I don't dare look at Mr. Ollivander in fear of him discovering me. After a few seconds, I let the light gradually die down.

After I'm done, I turn back to Mr. Ollivander to face him again. "Very well," he tells me. "Seems to all be working."

I reach into my pocket and hand him a bunch of galleons. "Keep the change."

As I begin to walk away with my fake wand, I feel a grasp on my hand. Mr. Ollivander has taken a hold of my arm. He looks into my eyes once more. "You may look like a young boy," he says slowly, "but you're eyes speak differently. They say that you have seen more beyond anyone's imagination."

He lets go of my arm. I quickly get out of the store, practically running. By the time I'm back outside in Diagon Alley, my hands are shaking, and sweat is falling down my forehead.

How did he know? How can Ollivander possibly know that I'm different? How did he figure it out?

I ponder over a thousand questions, going through my mind, all the way out of Diagon Alley and back to my apartment. I just hope that he keeps it a secret. I pray that Ollivander doesn't tell anybody, even if it is just the slightest of thoughts.

* * *

When I get back to my apartment, a letter is on my table. The envelope says Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry it, is addressed to me, and has a red seal on it. I open it up and read.

_Dear Merlin Emrys,_

_I am pleased that you would like the position for professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I would like to discuss this with you on July 30th at 1:00 pm. Please come to Hogsmeade and wait by Honeydukes. From there you will be escorted to Hogwarts and to my office so we may speak. Please owl me, if you will be able to come._

_-Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

I'm quite shocked that I have gotten an interview, or whatever they may call it. There must be others who are also getting interviews. I just wasn't expecting a reply that quickly.

I write back to Albus Dumbledore saying that it will work for and that I will most definitely be there. Tomorrow I will go back to Diagon Alley and send it by owl. Once again, it would be easier if I had my own owl, but I really wouldn't know how to take care of it. I'm a dragonlord, not an owl lord. And I'm almost positive that owl lord's don't exist. I guess I'm one of the few who prefers taking care of dragons over owls. That is if any dragons were left. Aithusa was the last. And she's gone now too. Along with everyone else.

But maybe Hogwarts could be a new start for me. For hundreds and hundreds of years I haven't gotten close to anyone because it hurts too much. I didn't want to lose anyone else. Maybe Hogwarts can be a new start for me. Maybe I'm ready to know someone again. To have just one friend. Just maybe.

* * *

On July 30th, a quarter to one, I'm waiting outside a shop called Honeydukes. It appears to be a candy store. I wait and wait, time pressing on, for someone to show up.

At exactly one, I see someone approaching. A tall man in gray robes. Long white hair and a lengthy beard. Perched on his nose are half-moon spectacles. I have seen this man in the newspaper before. It's Albus Dumbledore.

"Merlin Emrys?" He asks me.

"That's me," I say flashing a smile. "Nice to meet you Headmaster Dumbledore. I have heard quite a lot of good things about you."

"Thank you," he says. "Nice to meet you. And call me by my first name, Albus. Only students must call me Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Very well," I say.

"Time to go to Hogwarts." Just like that he starts walking away, towards a massive castle in the distance. What a pretty school this is.

He speaks to me as we walk. "You are probably wondering why we are looking for a professor this close to the new school year."

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't."

"Well," he says, "I shall explain before we discuss anything else. Just in case it may scare you off."

"I doubt it will," I tell him.

"We shall see," he says. Dumbledore keeps walking and I follow. He sighs before speaking again. "For over a decade now, we have had a new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. A new one every year."

"Do you know why?"

"No," he tells me. I can see it in his face. He is lying. I've been around for hundreds of years. I know a lie when I see one. He continues speaking, "Some say the job is cursed."

"Have all the past professors died?"

"No. Not all. Some, though. Many are unwilling to take the job because of this issue."

"I still want it," I tell him.

"Really?"

"You will find that it is hard to kill me. Tougher than you may imagine." At least that's the truth. Considering at this point I'm practically immortal. Been alive for quite some time.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asks.

"It's not important," I say quickly.

"So you would still like the job?"

"If you're willing to give it to me."

"Of course I am," Dumbledore tells me. "Quite honestly you were the only one to reply."

"Really?" I ask shocked.

"I suppose word has finally spread that it is a cursed job."

We near the castle and make some small talk.

"How old are you, Merlin?"

Technically over a thousand, but I can't say that. Right now I look young. I look like I was when I was still with Arthur. "Twenty five," I say without much hesitation. I practice this, just in case someone asks.

"Quite young," Dumbledore says.

"Age isn't a measure of skill or experience."

"That is quite right," he tells me. "Why do you want to teach at Hogwarts?"

"Well, for starters, I hate my current job." Dumbledore lets out a little laugh. "But I really want it because I love magic and it is a wonderful thing to teach young children. It is very important."

"I agree."

"Also I spent some time of my life serving others." I can see Arthur's face, yelling at me to clean his room. "And I have spent some of my life hiding my magic." I can hear Gaius telling me not to let anyone know about me and my powers. "I have also been in many dangerous situations." I see swords swishing, dangerous magical creatures trying to kill me, Morgana taking the throne of Camelot. "So now I feel as if it is my time to do what I do best. By teaching at Hogwarts, instead of serving a person, I will be serving magic. I will be serving magic by passing on the knowledge to others. And Headmaster, that is truly why I want this job."

By the time I finish speaking we have reached the door to Hogwarts, and I can feel a single tear sliding down my cheek, remembering Camelot. "Are you alright, Merlin?" Dumbledore asks me. It's not good that he noticed me.

"Yes," I say, wiping a tear away.

"Well, those were good reasons"

We walk inside Hogwarts. The interior is even more breathtaking than the exterior. It is massive. Doors, halls, staircases, ceilings going up higher than you can imagine. I look in awe of all of my surroundings. It is bigger and even more astonishing than Camelot. Camelot was beautiful, no doubt and will always be my true home, but Hogwarts is just simply fascinating.

I try not to look to amazed, so Dumbledore won't realize that I've never been here before. He leads me to a statue. Why a statue? He says a password and to my surprise, it begins moving, forming stairs. Amazing. Brilliant. These wizards are better and more powerful than I ever imagined.

His office is massive too. He takes a seat at his desk, and a sit across from it. I look around and all around the room are talking portraits. They even move. I've never seen anything like it.

"I just have a few more questions for you Merlin."

"Go ahead."

"When you first applied I couldn't find any record of your history of attending Hogwarts. Why is that?"

"Simple," I say. "I never attended Hogwarts." I figure that I can't lie about this if he could just go into the records.

"Where did you go to school? Beauxbatons? Durmstrang?"

"Durmstrang," I reply quickly. Sweat begins forming on my hands. I hope he will just go for it. Believe it. Please.

"Interesting."

"Is that an issue? Can I not have the job because of it?"

"No, it's not an issue. After all, you're the only person who is willing to take it."

"I suppose that's true," I say.

"Well, all you need to do is demonstrate you're magic now."

For about an hour Dumbledore tells me spells and I perform them. Before each one he tells me what they do, so I'm able to do it with my fake wand, while I just do it with the magic I know from the old religion. I make sure that he doesn't see my eyes change color.

When I'm done, we sit back down. "Well Merlin, you seem very qualified, so the job is yours."

"Thank you," I say to Dumbledore.

"I'm just pleased we have someone for the school year. The term begins on the 1st of September. If you don't mind it would be helpful if you came on the Hogwarts Express, because apparition is not allowed here."

"No problem," I say, considering that I have no idea what apparition is.

He hands me a list, with book titles. "Because you have gotten this position so little in advance, we have already assigned the books the students will have to purchase. From these books, create lessons and teach them magic."

"I got it," I say.

"And a room will be prepared for you when you arrive the first day of term."

"Thank you," I say.

"Well, have a good month, Merlin. I will see you at the feast." We shake hands and he escorts me out of Hogwarts.

As I walk back to Hogsmeade, I can't help but be ecstatic. As long as I hide that I'm from Camelot, maybe I can finally fit in. Teaching students like Gaius taught me. Performing magic as I please. Just being around others like me. Being my magical self, after all this time. Maybe Hogwarts can become my home.


	3. Chapter 3

Today is the day. I will board the Hogwarts Express with the rest of the children who are going to attend Hogwarts. Then I will be off and will become a professor.

I'm not going to lie and say I'm not scared at all, because that it the last thing from the truth. Quite honestly, I'm terrified. I've never taught others magic before. Never. How will that turn out? And the past month has been a little stressful. I taught myself many of the spells that keep coming up in the textbooks. I didn't think it all through when I applied. I should have. So much to teach myself. I have had learned a the basics of their magic, using wands. When I do their magic, and not magic of the old religion, my eyes no longer change color. So no one will see. I just have to be careful not to do spells of the old religion. I don't know why with this magic your eyes don't change color. Maybe it's just evolved over time after spells changed and a new type of magic came about.

I've started with the easier spells. So far I've learned a decent amount. A lot for the first and second years. I suppose when I get there the older students will have to do some textbook work until I learn more advanced things. Right now, I honestly have no idea why I took this job. At this point, the fourth years and up will be teaching me. It will probably end up a mess and I will be named the worst Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts has ever seen.

But it's too late to quit now. I just wish (even though he was a pain at times) that Kilgharrah was here to give me guidance, to just teach me the new way of magic really quickly somehow. He always seemed to know everything. Oh well. I'll just wait until I get sacked, I suppose.

* * *

At King's Cross, I pull out the ticket Dumbledore had mailed me. It said to go to King's Cross and take the train at Platform 9 and 3/4. Looking around here there is a platform 9 and a platform 10, but no 9 and 3/4. Very strange, but Dumbledore doesn't seem the type to mess up.

I carry my heavy trunk with some clothes, wizarding robes, my wand, books, and all the textbooks that the students use. I really didn't bring that much. Dumbledore said a room and food and practically everything else was provided. It is very little to bring, but I guess this is only temporary.

In between platforms 9 and 10, I contemplate. What the heck am I supposed to do? I have no idea where the platform is. And if I miss the train, well I'm sure to be sacked today. Maybe in a way that could be a blessing. Then I won't have to stress about learning their spells.

After about two minutes of standing like an idiot in between platforms, I see three people approaching to near I am. A father, a mother, and a young girl. The girl has a trunk and a cage with an owl fluttering inside. They must be wizards. The owl in the cage makes in very evident.

Maybe if I watch what they do, I can find the train. The girl seems to be bouncing up and down, either from nerves or excitement, it's actually probably both. The first time I arrived at Camelot, that's how I felt. Excited for the great big castle and a new place, but also most definitely nervous because I didn't know anyone. I didn't even know Gaius until I arrived. How long ago that all was.

The parents and their daughter walk over to a brick wall in between platforms 9 and 10. They stand there for a few seconds and then the father runs straight to the brick wall. A brick wall. How stupid is this guy? But right before he slams into it, he disappears. How? Where did he go? What is going on?

The young girl proceeds to do it and she too disappears, and finally the mother. All three ran to it and just before they hit the wall, they disappeared. Did anyone else at King's Cross see? Real smart way for the wizards to keep a low profile in front of the muggles. And now I'm even using their words. I guess I have to act like them and say stuff like them to fit in, so using the word muggle shouldn't be that big of a deal anymore.

I walk over to where that family was just standing. I hope I can do this. Run into a brick wall and disappear to wherever they went. It must not require that much magic, considering that little girl got though and probably doesn't know much. Here goes nothing.

Holding my trunk in one hand, I get ready, and then start running towards that same brick wall. Everything in my head tells me to stop, as I keep on getting closer and closer to the wall. My heart feels as if it might leap out of my chest. I don't stop running, not even right as I should be hitting the brick wall.

Before I realized anything has changed, I am somewhere else. It's definitely not where I was a few seconds ago. I stop running and look behind me.

It's still a brick wall. It's the same size, I think the same bricks, same everything. I just ran through a brick wall. How is that even possible? I have never seen something like that before. These wizards and witches are more complicated than I thought.

I face my surroundings. Sure enough, it is a platform. There are tracks, a lot of people, and a train. The gleaming Hogwarts Express sits on the tracks. Children will begin boarding it, ready to go to school. I guess this is Platform 9 and 3/4 and that it really does exist.

How odd it is that wizards take such simple non-magical transportation. Reading The Daily Prophet you'd think that they would use brooms. That newspaper mentions them flying on brooms a lot. But if they did take those every child for each of the seven years would fill up the sky to get to Hogwarts. Even though the muggles are ignorant, they aren't blind.

A lot of wizards are here. Most of the children have come with both their parents and there is seven years of students who attend Hogwarts. I only realize now that I will be teaching every single child that boards that train.

I really have nothing to do on the platform and I don't think the train will be moving for a little while. Might as well find myself a seat. Don't want to be stuck without one. Hopefully I won't have to share a compartment with any of the students. I don't know any of the other professors at Hogwarts, so I have no idea where to sit.

I step into the train, finding that it is pretty empty. There are a few students on it already, but everyone seems to be saying prolonged goodbyes to their family. I don't even know when they are allowed to go home. Maybe during the holidays? I can't imagine they have to wait until summer to see their family again. I think parents would be even more angry than the students.

I walk through the aisle of the train. Not choosing a compartment yet, just simply looking around. The train is nice. Clean and everything. They must be using magic. Too bad I couldn't do that in my days working as a manservant. Would have made my job much easier, but I couldn't get caught. I was always hiding. Hiding who I truly was.

I can hear a door sliding open. Must be one of the compartment doors. I look ahead and see a man striding towards me. He's a lot older than I am. Gray hair, with hints of some blond hair. He looks as if he has begun balding.

As he approaches a big smile comes across his face. "Oh hello," he says holding out his hand for me to shake. "Horace Slughorn. Potions master and head of Slytherin house."

Besides Dumbledore, Horace Slughorn is the first professor I have meet. "Merlin Emrys," I say as I shake his hand.

"Oh, yes," he says. "Merlin Emrys. New Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Good to finally meet you."

"You too."

"Ah, you're named after the great sorcerer Merlin, right? The one they tell tales about?" Slughorn says, chuckling to himself.

"Sure am," I say. "They say Merlin is one of the greatest sorcerers." I can't believe I'm talking to someone about being named after myself. Sometimes it would be easier too admit it all, but then the questions. People would ask, how can you live that long? What is it like? And some would try to figure out my immortality. If immortality falls into the wrong hands we are all doomed.

"Well, Merlin," Horace says to me, "because you are new here please join me in my compartment. If you please. Some students will be there though."

"Students?" I ask.

"Just a group, or a club if you would like to call it that. Just some talented students of mine."

"I'll join you," I say. The fact that this professor has a club is kind of funny. He is picking favorites. It amuses me. I wonder what they will talk about in this club.

Slughorn leads me to his compartment, where his club of students will meet him. He asks me things about me, my life, so naturally I lie for most of the questions. It's practically second nature to me, at this point. New cover story every couple of decades.

Horace Slughorn seems like a bubbly, happy man. But somewhere inside there he seems broken. Deep down there is something terribly wrong and he just masks it all. To the normal eye you probably wouldn't be able to tell. But I, like him, have had to mask so much. Everyday when I face people I have to pretend like nothing is wrong. I have to face the world and pretend that I'm not constantly thinking of Arthur, my mother, Gaius, any of my friends from Camelot. You think after a thousand years I would be immune to it and wouldn't cry. Well I guess that isn't life. It's not so easy to forget and move on.

I sit with Slughorn, and watch out the windows as the crowd of people gets smaller and smaller. Children are boarding the train. Some are laughing, others crying, older students are chattering away with their friends. I can't pretend like I'm not nervous for tomorrow. I will be teaching, for the first time.

Students file into Horace's train compartment. They sit around a table and soon a trolley comes around with food. I'm even aloud to dig in with the students. All the students look like they are second years and up, which makes sense since he hasn't taught the first years yet.

Surprisingly, they don't really talk about school or potions. Mostly just what their summer was like. Some students have really simple summers. Those must be the ones that are really smart in Potions or Slughorn likes their personality. Most of the students are children of famous Quidditch players, have parents that are high up in the Ministry, or other noticeable things that just make their parents or relatives famous. They talk about all the exciting, thrilling things they did.

All I learn on this train ride about Horace's club is that it is for students he likes, students that are really smart, or students that have famous or important relatives. Most of them are students with important relatives, which means Slughorn's goal is to know as many important people possible. He probably wants to have a good social standing. It's kind of sneaky, to be honest.

The train ride isn't terrible. I don't converse with anyone, I just sit and read, while eavesdropping on their conversations with Slughorn. I find it all very interesting. None of them even ask who I am. They must be content with the fact that Slughorn favors them and gives them free food.

Everyone on the train seems to know about what time we will get to Hogwarts, so close to an hour before, they change from their regular clothes into their school robes. With their school robes on I can now tell what houses they are from. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Since I have been hired, I have read many books about Hogwarts, trying to learn how to maneuver around it and it's history. A lot of it has been about the houses. Accepting this job has been a lot more work for me than I expected. But it's kind of nice to be doing something productive again. My jobs over the years have been so simple because I used to cheat with my magic. With a job dealing with magic, you can't really cheat with magic.

There are more Slytherin students than the rest of the houses, but that makes sense since Horace is the head of Slytherin house. But there is a good amount of students from the other houses. At least he doesn't just limit it to Slytherin.

When the train comes to halt and we've arrived at Hogsmeade Station, I decide to wait for Slughorn because I have no idea what to do or where to go. All the children file out except one. Horace is talking to a Slytherin boy, probably in his fourth year with pale, blond hair that is quite long.

They talk for a few moments, very quietly, so I can't even hear what they are saying. Or maybe my hearing is just going bad. Either way I have no idea what they are speaking of, but it must be secretive.

When the boy leaves, Slughorn turns to me. "Off we go then?"

"Yep," I say.

I let him walk in front of me just so I don't seem so stupid to where I am going. He comes to a stop at some carriages. Carriages that aren't ordinary. All the students are hopping into them so calm, but why aren't any of them scared?

The carriages are different because they are being pulled by these creatures. Massive, bony creatures. Their face almost looks like one of a dragon. But they also look like a horse, except for the massive wings coming out of their backs. They are sinister, but they don't seem evil.

"What are those?" I ask Horace.

"What are you talking about?"

"Those creatures, or animals. Whatever those things are pulling the carriages."

"Merlin, I have no idea what you are talking about," he says stepping into the carriage. I follow him. "The carriages pull themselves. That's just one of the amazing things of Hogwarts."

"No," I say, as the carriage starts moving, the horse-like creatures pulling it as they move. "Look they are pulling it," I tell him while pointing right at the head.

"Merlin I can tell you one fact. I attended Hogwarts for seven years and have taught here for a very long time. Nothing has ever pulled those carriages."

"But...but." How can this be?

"God, boy. I think you need to get a good rest after the feast," Horace tells me.

I don't speak for the rest of the ride. I sit silently thinking, processing. This is it. I am going crazy. Slughorn knows Hogwarts better than a lot of people and he has no idea what I am seeing. But I can't take my eyes of them. Those creatures. I'm too scared to touch them out of the fear I'll disturb them. Or maybe even the fear that nothing will be there.

I thought Hogwarts would be easy for me because I know magic. But it's not. This place holds more secrets than I thought I would see in the first couple of hours. The carriages, the boy on the train, Hogwarts is even making me go crazy. I have never in my entire life gone crazy before. I have never imagined things. Why now? Is this going to be when I die? Is this it for me? I'm seeing things no one else sees. I never thought finding people like me would make me even worse than I already was.


	4. Chapter 4

The feast is being held in The Great Hall. The Great Hall is enormous. When I walk in behind Slughorn, my breath is taken away. Four long tables, one for each house. And then another table for the professors. But that's not nearly what is so intriguing about The Great Hall.

It's the ceiling. When I first look up I am taken away. The ceiling isn't stone, like the rest of Hogwarts. It's the night sky. Pitch black with twinkling stars. It's so mesmerizing to look at.

There are also floating candles, giving off light. The candles are just up there, just floating, nothing else holding it up. It's fascinating.

I follow Slughorn to the long table at the end for professors. The only one I recognize sitting down is Dumbledore. The rest of them, well I have no idea who they are. I reckon I have a lot of introducing to do.

When we reach the table, Horace takes a seat. Dumbledore motions for me to sit at the very end of the table. There are so many professors at Hogwarts. I can feel my stomach churning. What if everyone here hates me? Or figures out who I am? As the students file in, sweat forms on my palms and my legs begin shake. I can barely think, my head is so clouded with too many thoughts.

More and more students come, filling much of the tables. Everyone but the really young ones. I guess the first years come in last. I really don't know, though. I've never been here, so I have no idea of how it works.

After all the students are seated, a professor stands up. It is a woman, with long black robes and a pointed hat. She looks to be in her mid to late thirties. Not very old, I suppose. She walks in front of the table to a small stool with a brown, raggedy, pointed hat, sitting on it.

I lean towards Horace. "What is her name?" I ask him.

"Minerva McGonagall, professor of Transfiguration. And head of Gryffindor house."

"Sorry," I murmur. "I don't know many of the other professors yet."

We put our attention back to Minerva McGonagall. She waits by the stool, when suddenly the massive doors of the Great Hall open up. In come the first years, flooding the room. But they are lead by a giant man, who is very tall. He has bushy, black hair, and really all I can pay attention to is his height. I've never seen someone that tall before.

He leads them to the front of the Great Hall, by Minerva McGonagall. Then the massive man, takes a seat at our table, at the very opposite end from me.

McGonagall pulls out a long piece of parchment, lifts the hate off the stool and says, "Time for the Sorting Ceremony to begin." The hat recites a very long poem about Hogwarts. After the hat finishes, McGonagall looks at the parchment and reads off a name. A first year student stumbles out of the crowd, almost tripping on the way. They sit on the school and McGonagall places the hat on their head. The hat begins speaking. Speaking. How is it even able to speak? Then after a few moments the hat yells, "Slytherin!" The child gets up off the school and joins the Slytherin's at their table, all of them cheering and clapping as the student sits down.

I guess the hat decides the house the first years join. Interesting way to do it. The hat must be all knowing or something. I have a feeling I'll never get get used to this school and all of the wonders it holds.

It takes quite a while for the hat to get through every single first year. By the time R's in the alphabet are being called, you can see all the students getting restless to eat.

When the Sorting Hat finishes there is one more big round of applause. Dumbledore stands up and begins to speak to all the students. "I will keep this short, as you all look very hungry," all the students agree in quiet murmurs. "A new year," Dumbledore speaks to the room, gazing up at the ceiling, which is the sky. "Some new students," he says, as his eyes scan across the hall at the first years. "And a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor," Dumbledore looks back at me and points his arm in my direction. "Let's have a wondrous year of learning."

The second Dumbledore sits back down, everyone immediately digs into their food. I'm surprised his speech was so short. I would think it would be longer. I guess not much happened over the holidays.

All the other professors seem deep in conversation with each other. I feel a little awkward because I don't really know anybody. I just sit at my seat, quietly. Keeping to myself. Occasionally I take a few bits of food. The food certainly doesn't help my stomach. Butterflies in your stomach, as the say now. I can barely think over the drumming off my heart. All my senses are blurred. I'm certainly not ready for tomorrow.

All the students, even some of the first years look all excited and happy. And then there are the first year who look and probably feel like me. Scared because they don't know anyone, nervous because of all the changes, but also that tiny little bit of adventure of what is to come. I know that feeling. It was how I felt the first time I arrived in Camelot.

When the feast is finished, older students, called Prefects, take the first years to the common rooms. The professors that are the heads of one of the houses also get up from our able to make sure everything is all in order.

After all the students are out of the Great Hall, some of the professors begin to leave too. I straggle behind for a little bit and I notice, the tall, massive, giant-like man, who brought the first years here, coming towards me.

"Rubeus Hagrid, keeper o' keys" he says is deep voice. I wonder what the keeper of the keys does.

"Merlin Emrys, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Nice ter meet yeh Merlin. Just thought I should introduce meself."

"Thanks. I don't really know any-," Hagrid and I are cut off by Dumbledore.

"Sorry I have to interrupt, but Hagrid, I need to speak with Merlin."

"O' course, professor."

Hagrid begins to walk away and I yell to him, "Nice meeting you."

"Yeh too. Good luck 'morrow," Hagrid says back to me.

"Sorry about that Merlin," Dumbledore says to me.

"No, its fine, professor."

"Well, I need to speak to you privately in my office."

"Lead the way," I say and follow Dumbledore out of the Great Hall, to his office I had my interview at only a few months ago.

We take the same seats as last time. I'm guessing he just needs to tell me a few things before I begin teaching tomorrow.

We sit silent for a few seconds, Dumbledore sighs, and then begins to speak. "Merlin, it is very peculiar. After your interview, I owled all the wizarding schools I knew, just to find any record of you. I was interested to see what school you attended. And none of them knew a thing. All replied, but knew nothing about a Merlin Emrys. They all said they heard of Merlin, the greatest sorcerer to every walk the Earth, or so it's said. But nothing about a Merlin Emrys."

This isn't good not at all. He knows. He must know. What is he going to do to me? Will he even believe me if I tell the truth? I gulp. I'm not answering him.

"But you are a wizard. No doubt. No one can fake that type of magic," he states. Maybe he knows. After all, Dumbledore does seem like a very smart man.

"There is only one thing that needs explaining." Oh no, I don't want to have to say it all. I don't want anyone to know. What if they try to use my powers for evil? I'm more powerful than anyone in this school. And if someone, the wrong person, found out, things could end up badly.

Dumbledore stares into my eyes, with a blank face. I know I'll have to answer him. There is no getting out of this. He speaks the words. The words I know are coming. The words I will have to explain to. The only question is can I trust him?

"Who are you?"


	5. Chapter 5

His question rings through my head. Over and over and over. _Who are you?_

I don't think I can get out of this situation. I don't know how to get around Hogwarts, I don't know anyone here, and I have no way to flee. But mostly, I have nothing to go back to. Even if I could escape, which is plausible because I am more powerful than anyone else here, would it even be worth it? I have no where to go.

Would telling Dumbledore be that bad? He wouldn't be mad that I'm a sorcerer, considering he is one himself. It can't be worse than when I had to tell Arthur. The day I told Arthur. The way I felt when he turned me away. That was one of the worst things I've ever felt. The only thing more damaging to me was when he took his last breath in my arms. I don't know what I would've done if he hadn't finally accepted me. How much more unbearable would these hundreds of years been? I do know one thing though, no matter what, whether or not he accepted me, I would still wait. I would wait for his return. No matter what. I will be waiting as long as it takes. Because Arthur is a good man, I know he is.

Admitting that I'm a sorcerer isn't the issue. The real reason I'm complicating, is if he will try to use my powers for evil. From what I've gathered so far, Dumbledore seems like a good person. Not deceiving, but then again, I've been betrayed too many times.

I will tell him. But at this point I'm pretty sure I'm doing it for my own sanity. Holding it all in, bearing the weight of all the pain, loss, and power has made me so exhausted over the years. Maybe I need to just get it out. With no one to talk to for a thousand years, it gets pretty lonely. I would sometimes talk to Aithusa, after everyone from my life in Camelot and Ealdor were gone, but she could never respond. I loved Aithusa, but it wasn't the same as being able to tell someone. At this point, I just need someone. Someone who knows. I'm so tired of being alone. I have felt so much pain and loss, and it's all bottled up.

Some people want to live forever. They think it would be a blessing, but I know that it's a curse. Seeing everything and everyone who love and ever care about leave you, die. It's the worst thing imaginable. Many see loved ones die, but they probably don't see their home gone, things that are widely practiced, turned into a tale told to children. If I could, I would have been dead long ago. Dead long before Camelot fell. Dead at a normal age, like everyone else. I don't become close to anyone anymore because I know. I know too much about life. I know how much it will hurt when they leave me. The only thing that I hold onto, is that tiny inkling. That little bit of hope, that flickers far beyond. The slimmest chance I can see Arthur again. He's the only reason to hold on.

Sometimes speaking his name hurts, thinking of our days in Camelot, when he pretended to never care about his manservant. Sometimes I hear his laugh or can see his smile and it makes it so much worse again. But then there are those days when seeing, hearing, and saying those things help me. I live for those days. They give me hope. They make me happy. He somehow makes me it okay again. Arthur.

Dumbledore repeats his question again, "Who are you?"

I sigh and take a deep breath. "It's a long story," I tell him.

"Well, good thing I have a long time."

"Most wouldn't believe it."

"Well, we're wizards, I have seen many things. I can believe a lot of things."

"Well then," I shift in my seat. "I was telling the truth part of the time. And I'm not evil or anything. My name is Merlin Emrys. I guess I'll answer any questions you ask."

"Good to know that's your real name. Where are you from?"

"A small town called Ealdor."

"I've never heard of it," Dumbledore says confused. "What is the closest city?"

"Ealdor is gone," I can feel it all hit me again. "It's been gone for a long time now. And the closest city, well it wasn't really a city. It was a kingdom."

"Merlin, kingdoms haven't really excited in such a way you've implied in a very long time."

"Of course they haven't."

"Well what was this kingdom called?"

I haven't said the name out loud in so long. Sometimes I just try to bury every single memory I have of it. I utter the word, "Camelot."

"Camelot?" Dumbledore asks, with his eyebrows raised.

"Camelot," I repeat again.

"Merlin, you are aware-"

I cut him off. "It's not myth. Now professor listen closely, I'm just going to say it at once. It's all true. Camelot is real. I moved there when I was young because I was struggling with controlling my magic. I lived with the physician, Gaius and he taught me all I know about magic. It's all real. Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table, and even," I choke out the last words, "...and even King Arthur," I say solemnly.

"Merlin, how could you possibly live that long?"

"I'm a sorcerer."

"Having magic isn't enough to live over a thousand years."

"Well," I say, "here I am. Greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth, the druids used to say. I'm more powerful than any of you."

"How?"

"The old religion. That's what my magic originates from. It's different from how it is used today. I don't need a wand. Spells are necessary, but wands are useless for me."

"Well, I'm not very sure what to say."

"Don't believe me? Figures," I say nodding my head, feeling tears start swelling up. Why would this ever work? Why would anything turn out okay for me, just one time? I guess I'm doomed to this terrible life. A life that I don't want to live anymore. But I have to. I _have _to. For him. For Arthur. I swore that I would be by his side until the day I die, or that I would die trying. Well, I'm still alive. And I have to keep that promise. I have to keep that promise to stay by his side.

Dumbledore sighs and then tells me. "There's something about you Merlin. And although you sound like a complete madman, somehow I do believe. Somehow I'm confident that you are telling the truth."

"Really?" I raise my eyes, hope flickering inside me.

"Yes. Some things are too hard too fake. Just look at you. On the verge of crying. No matter how good of an actor you may be, some things are hard to fake. And I've seen the sadness and pain that fills your heart since the day we meet. I've always sensed something."

"That obvious, huh?"

"I suppose," he says consumed with thought. "But then again, I know you are telling the truth. I can tell because whatever you have been through has been clear in your emotions. It always has."

"Thanks. For believing. You're the first person I've told. I guess I could trust you more than most, considering you're a wizard," I tell Dumbledore.

"The real question, I suppose, is what happened? How did it all end? Why do you want to live that long? That would explain why you are still standing here today."

I gulp. Thinking about it all is hard enough, But speaking it, how am I supposed to say those words? The words I have only spoken once before. The words I spoke to my mother, stumbling into Ealdor wondering what I was supposed to do. Wondering how I was going to continue? The words.

Arthur is dead.

"I was Arthur's manservant. I saved his life and Uther, his father and the king, made me his servant. But magic was banned in Camelot, so I was forced to hide it." Thinking about it all and saying it again is so foreign to me. So strange. I begin to feel a tingling in my eye.

"I'm assuming there is a lot more."

"I'll keep it short. Arthur became a good man, a great man, actually the best person I knew. And there was his sister, Morgana and she turned evil and tried to steal the throne. Uther reigned for a long while, but eventually was killed and thus Arthur's reign as king began. He changed so much. Made people who weren't nobles into knights, always cared about the citizens, and was just a great king. Then there was Mordred."

"I've heard of him. In the legends."

"Sure you have. Mordred was a druid boy. But Arthur trusted him. I didn't think it was wise, but then again everything's my fault. Maybe if I had ignored my destiny, it wouldn't have all happened, But Mordred betrayed Arthur, joined Morgana, and at the Battle of Camlann stabbed him, and Arthur killed him in return." The tingling in my eye has gotten worse and worse. I feel a tear slipping down my eye.

"Merlin, you said you were the greatest sorcerer. Why couldn't you save Arthur?"

"Because it was a blade forged by the dragon's blade. Similar to Arthur's sword. Not even I could fix it. Not I, a sorcerer and the last dragonlord. It's because the dragons were older than the Old Religion. Their powers are superior." My eyes become puffy. My voice raises, "And so I took him. To Avalon, he was holding on with his last bit of life. Morgana came and I killed her with Arthur's blade. But I couldn't make it in time. There was no way to save him."

"Merl-," Dumbledore begins, seeing the tears streaming down my face.

"After ten years of saving him again and again. This time there was no way," my voice shakes. "Everything I did, stood by him as his loyal servant and friend, constantly saving his life. None of it mattered. Not that day. Because right beside the Lake of Avalon, I held him in my arms. Helpless, because for once I couldn't save him. And he uttered his last words to me. And there was nothing I could do. I saw the light in his eyes leave, the smile on his face fade, and the life drained out of him." I don't even care that my eyes are bright red with tears. Why should I?

"That day, Kilgharrah, a dragon I knew, told me that when Albion's need was greatest Arthur would rise again. And as sneaky Kilgharrah was, I believed him. I still do. So after a thousand years I'm still here. Still waiting. I will wait as long as it takes. As lonely as it gets. As hard as it gets. I will wait, for Arthur to rise again."

"I'm terribly sorry, Merlin."

"So am I." I lower my head, waiting to escape this room.

"Merlin," Dumbledore sighs and seems to still be thinking about everything I've told him. "I'll speak to you in the morning."

I don't respond. Not with the tears coating my face. My throat feels glued and strained. I get out of his office quickly. And I don't even bother finding my room. I run outside onto the grounds and prop myself up against a tree. It's almost like all those years ago, in forests throughout the five kingdoms.

It's almost like sleeping in the woods going on adventures with Arthur and fighting off magical things. I can almost feel like we are having one of those talks by the campfire.

The smell of fresh air. The rustling of trees. The quiet movements of animals. The gleaming moon and the twinkling stars in the sky. It's all still the same.

Little, old Merlin sitting by a tree. A young face, holding hundreds of years of history and heartbreak and life. The real Merlin, the manservant to Prince Arthur is gone now. I'm not the same person. Neither of us are really here, I suppose.

Arthur is just a ghost now.

And so am I.


End file.
